


The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

by Mrs_N_Uzumaki, Supersidekick



Series: Cat's in the Cradle [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Molestation, Parent Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N_Uzumaki/pseuds/Mrs_N_Uzumaki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersidekick/pseuds/Supersidekick
Summary: Peter hadn’t thought abouthimin years, boxing up those nightmares a lifetime ago and throwing away the key. Ultimately, he thought he had moved on. But then they got a letter. A few weeks ago, May had said.“I’m so sorry I waited this long to tell you, sweetheart. I just thought it would be best not to bring it up, but then I thought…you’dwantto say something.”





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I do recommend reading the first part of the series. However, this story will still mostly make sense.
> 
> Also available: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13083392/1/The-Hand-That-Rocks-The-Cradle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The dad bit you're about to read was inspired by the adorable comic by shesellsseagulls: http://shesellsseagulls.tumblr.com/post/175215919167/they-are-in-the-fatherson-zone-and-its
> 
> It’s so cute that I just can’t unsee it happening!
> 
> Special thanks to my co-writer Supersidekick (MegaLegU on ff.net) for helping me massively throughout. Seriously, this chapter wouldn't be half as good as it is now without her.
> 
> Title inspired by The Smiths’s song. Not only does it go well with the theme it also keeps up the series title tradition. Although, you could say the song can be interpreted into many things.
> 
> Having said that…
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual abuse towards the end. Please read with care.
> 
> (See the end of the work for more notes.)

* * *

**Part I**

* * *

Peter woke with a start, his weary mind recalling the previous evening he had with his dad.

Speaking of the word _dad_ …

Aunt May had a business conference a few states over and they all thought it would be a good opportunity for Peter to spend the week with his father. They spent the first night (last evening) tinkering in the lab, eating junk food (including Stark’s flavoured ice cream) and alternating between singing rock classics and post-millennial music. At some point, Tony showed him the mechanics of Rhodey’s leg brace. He even helped Peter build a mini-robot; not like DUM-E, but a small device that moved from point A to point B. It was nothing compared to Tony’s amazing gadgets but Tony acted like it was, telling Peter he did an incredible job and that he was going places…

_“MIT will have a field day with you!”_

_“Who said I was even going to college?” Peter joked._

_Tony halted and stared straight at him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”_

It was one of the best days of Peter’s life. It also left him worn out by eleven. Tony stopped talking when he noticed that he wasn’t joined by his exuberant son. He turned to the boy and smiled fondly as he saw Peter resting his head on his arms on the counter. He walked up to him and whispered, “Pete, get to bed. This will hurt your back in the morning, take it from me.”

The tired teen moaned and stretched his back. “Okay,” he yawned. Mind still in a haze, Peter reached the doorway and mumbled, “ _'Night, Dad_ ,” on his way out.

Which led to now, in bed, at three in the morning. His mind was dreaming of the moment – to torture him? Probably.

Peter was pretty sure Mr Stark heard his slip of the tongue. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed. It _had_ been two months since they discovered the truth about their relationship, and he had spent a lot of time with him since then.

Maybe he was more worried about Mr Stark’s reaction. What if he didn’t want to be called _Dad_ so openly like that?

Peter shook his thoughts away and hoped he just hadn’t heard him.

The sun rose too soon and Tony walked into Peter’s room, exhaustion evident around his eyes and a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “Rise and shine, kiddo. Time to get up.”

Peter grumbled and placed his pillow over his head.

“Up and ‘atom’, as your science t-shirts would say.” Tony made air-quotes around the word ‘atom’ making sure that his progeny noticed the pun.

Peter only grumbled louder.

Tony commended May’s ability to get him up every morning. This was his first time shaking a sleeping teenager awake and he was already losing patience. It was his fault, really. He should’ve set a bedtime like May asked but he was just so excited to have his son over for the first time that he wanted to spend every waking opportunity with him. Especially when he had missed so many years…

Tony sighed as there were no signs of movement from the boy. He removed the blanket harshly, revealing a whining Peter in his white t-shirt and pyjama bottoms as he lied on his stomach with his limbs spread out. Tony took a hold of his ankle and pulled him towards the edge of the bed, the boy’s shirt riding up as he did so. “Get up, come on. If I have to go to my morning meetings, you have to go to school.”

Peter mumbled to his sheets, “Can’t you go for me?”

“As tempting and, admittedly amusing, as it would be to have the Secretary of Estate screaming in my voicemail, I’ve done my time. Let’s gooooo,” he said, pulling at the boy’s elbow with his spare hand, careful as to not drop hot coffee him. “You have a long ride ahead of you.”

Peter finally got up, removing his shirt and carelessly throwing it to the floor, and swayed towards the bathroom, griping about something along the lines of, “It’s not _my fault_ you decided to relocate Upstate.”

Tony sipped his coffee and exhaled the scent. “God give me strength to do this every morning.” Monday down, four more days to go.

Satisfied by his victory, and this was definitely one to the nines, Tony hobbled to the kitchen to make them some breakfast.

Peter was showered and dressed when he made his way to the island, dragging his backpack alongside him.

Tony placed a bowl of oatmeal topped with eggs and bacon in front of Peter, relishing the satisfaction that he got from placing the foods in a smile-shaped formation. (Needless to say, he was inspired by a viewing of _Mulan_ with Peter.)

Peter glanced up from the food as if to say, ‘you’re kidding me.’ Admittedly, Tony felt a flare-up of anxiety in his stomach. He worried that his enthusiasm at new-found fatherhood was a bit more...voracious than subtle. He didn’t want to freak the (his) kid out. The wait for Peter to dig into the food felt interminable.

Finally, Peter picked up a piece of bacon and began chewing. Tony let out a subtle breath of relief. Not wanting to let Peter know that just a few seconds prior, his insides had seemed to be coiling into an uncomfortable knot, he pointed to the teenager’s shirt which said ‘Up and Atom'.

“Of course,” he remarked at the pun that he had made a play on only a few moments prior.

“Nuh-uh,” Peter playfully pointed his spoon at him. “You can’t make fun of my shirts when you give me this,” he said, pointing at the bowl.

“What? Warrior’s breakfast and it’s happy to see you.”

“Wow, you deserve this shirt more than I do.”

“Might take you up on that offer,” Tony said, unable to suppress his smile. “Eat.”

“There better not be a grasshopper in there,” he joked.

“Cricket.”

“What?” Peter said with a mouthful.

“It’s a cricket, not a grasshopper. They’re considered a sign of luck. Have you heard of a lucky grasshopper?” Peter looked worriedly at his bowl. Tony rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing in there, just eat!”

“If you grew up with May’s cooking you’d be paranoid too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Tony muttered, recalling her walnut and date loaf. He sat opposite Peter as he ate his own bowl of oatmeal, (minus the food-smile) a newspaper lying out before him. His eyes scrolled through the _Financial Times_ , finding a few articles on the latest business deals his company had signed.

Peter couldn’t stop yawning between his bites. Halfway through his food, he paused and held his face by his hand. As he almost fell face-first into his bowl his father said, “Hey, I don’t want a repeat of earlier. Up, up!” he snapped his fingers. “What’s with you this morning? Are you always like this? Because, if so, your aunt deserves tremendous pay for her efforts. Maybe she could save for a new car. Or house.”

Ignoring the jab, Peter said, “No, I’m not always like this. I’ve just been patrolling almost every night the past few weeks.”

“Peter,” he reprimanded, closing his newspaper and folding it on his lap, “what did May and I say about overdoing it?”

“Crime doesn’t sleep, Mr Stark.” He shoved his bowl away, placing his arms on the counter for his head to rest on. “And apparently neither do I.”

“Oh, it’s back to ‘Mr Stark’ now, is it?”

That made Peter snap right up. “You heard that?”

Tony smiled. “It’s fine. Whatever you think works.”

Peter blushed slightly.

“Although, if you want to keep this whole thing hush-hush you might not want to do it in public.”

Peter grinned and nodded sheepishly.

“Come on, get to school. Happy is waiting downstairs.”

Peter rushed towards the lift, almost bumping into Rhodey on the way. “Hi, Mr Rhodes! Bye, Mr Rhodes!”

Rhodey had his hand halfway up but Peter was quick to leave.

“And we’ll talk about your patrolling hours later!” Tony called out, hearing a groan from the teenager in return as the lift doors closed.

He grinned to his friend and then at himself for a job well-done. “Killing it.”

xXx

“Hi, Peter.”

Peter almost jumped from his concentrating and turned to find the voice belonging to a classmate. “Hey…” He tried to recall her name but couldn’t pinpoint it. The young woman had long, chest-length, white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was almost as tall as Peter but, as Peter was sitting down, she appeared to tower over him with her confident stance.

“I drew your name from the hat, guess we’re partners,” she shrugged from underneath the backpack straps resting on her shoulders. “Lucky for me, I have the smartest guy in the class.”

Peter raised his brow at her bluntness, but he had to admit: she was cute. He laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember your name,” he admitted sheepishly.

“That’s okay, I’m still sort of new and this our first class together. I’m Gwen.”

He shook her hand. “Peter…but you sorta knew that.” They laughed lightly. “Wait, if you’re new how could you tell I was the smartest?”

Gwen’s cheeks flushed scarlet; she wouldn’t admit that she’d been eyeing him since starting school two weeks ago. “Oh, Mr Harrington couldn’t stop gushing about you,” she covered. She wasn’t lying; she had met the teacher when she asked about decathlon practise. “So, what are we working on?”

Peter smiled and talked about the chemistry project, surprised to find how interested she was in actually listening to what he was talking about. He was so engrossed in his science talk that he didn’t notice the way this Gwen girl was looking at him.

Before they both knew it, the bell rang to give relief to their hungry stomachs. They were walking down the busy hallway and Peter was about to ask her to join his lunch table when Flash bumped his shoulder, causing him to drop his books.

“Watch it, Penis.” Flash ignored the hapless look that Peter served him and instantly turned to the new, blonde girl. “Sorry you got the runt of the litter.”

Gwen raised her brow at this guy. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, why don’t you join me and my friends, you know, to get that stench of _loser-_ ” he said, looking down at said boy as he was picking up his books, “from your hair?”

“I think I got more than enough of that stench from your greasy mop,” she countered and Peter almost laughed.

Flash’s friends, however, didn’t hold back. They pulled him towards the hall and yelled along the lines of, “Oh burn!” and “Savage!” and “She got you _good_ , Flash!” while he timidly checked his hair.

Peter smiled at her and offered her his elbow – she’d earned that much. “Why don’t you join _my_ table?”

Gwen easily accepted it. “I’d love that.”

He introduced his new friend to the rest of the gang. Ned almost choked on his apple juice, because ‘pretty girl is standing by their table’ was blaring in his mind, and MJ eyed her the way she scrutinised Peter when he was making excuses to miss decathlon practise. “Guys, this is Gwen…”

“Stacy,” she finished.

“We’re partners in lab.” Peter was almost embarrassed by the way his friends stared at her. “And she roasted Flash back there.”

Finally, MJ held up a first-bump. “Respect.”

Gwen grinned and returned the gesture.

“That was _you_?” Ned said. “I overheard everything from that table.” He pointed to Flash’s friends. “Man, I wish I had your balls.”

The new girl laughed along, feeling like she was already part of the group.

xXx

Peter was in a great mood when he started patrol that afternoon. He made a new friend, Flash got a taste of his own medicine, he was spending a whole week with his father at the freaking _Avengers_ facility. And he made that Maths quiz his bitch. Suffice to say, life was good.

He was ready to call it a night when he got a phone call.

It wasn’t an unusual call. It was his aunt checking up on him, as she had been doing since she took off for the week. He, in fact, was expecting it.

What he wasn’t expecting, was his aunt dropping a bombshell on him.

Peter hadn’t thought about _him_ in years, boxing up those nightmares a lifetime ago and throwing away the key. Ultimately, he thought he had moved on. But then they got a letter. A few weeks ago, May had said. _“I’m so sorry I waited this long to tell you, sweetheart. I just thought it would be best not to bring it up, but then I thought…you’d_ want _to say something.”_

Peter was angry. Not at her, but at himself. Because he _would_ want to say something, _would_ want to prevent a tragedy happening to another human being the way it had happened to him. At the same time, he just wanted to curl up and forget it ever happened.

But he couldn’t. He was Spider-Man now. He had a responsibility.

After he hung up he sat on the roof of a building, thoughts of calling it a night dismissed. His mind was too riled up.

Without thinking twice, Peter ordered to shut Karen down, effectively stopping any possible calls from his father. He needed time to clear his head.

xXx

The next morning, Peter was up earlier than usual, which was surprising considering the time he came back last night. He made sure to be as discreet as possible when he climbed to his room. So discreet, even FRIDAY wouldn’t detect him. He just hoped Vision wouldn’t walk through his wall like before and give him the scare of a lifetime. (So that was what Happy had meant by Vision not being a fan of walls.)

Peter placed his headphones, a new release courtesy of Stark Industries (his dad wanted him to have the first pair) onto his head and sang the next song on his playlist.

“‘Cause we’re young and reckless...we’ll take it way too far…” Peter took his bread out of the toaster and started dousing it in peanut butter. He felt his mood slowly lifting when suddenly the headphones were snatched from his head.

“Hey!” he yelled indignantly before noticing the dark look on his father’s face.

“What would,” he set the headphones down on the counter, “you call the stunt you pulled last night?”

“Uh, getting fresh air?” Peter asked meekly.

“Really? ‘Cause I would call it ‘My Scrawny Ass Is About To Get Grounded Because I Never Answered the Many Missed Calls My Poor Worried Father/Mentor, Who Gave Me a Billion-Dollar Suit, Left Me'.”

Peter looked blankly at him. “That’s way too long to fit on a business card.” He saw none of the usual spark in Tony’s eyes that indicated he was in a joking mood.

Rhodey walked in, leg brace squeaking, intending to seek out some food. Tony threw his friend an intense ‘not now’ gaze and Rhodey immediately retreated, sensing the tension in the room.

“Well?” Tony leveled his gaze at his sheepish son. “What do you have to say?”

“Come on, Mr Stark, it’s not like I’m out late partying.” Tony knew that Peter was still wearing in the word ‘dad’ but it hurt when he slipped back to ‘Mr Stark’. It put distance between him and his son - something he had already felt so acutely, not having had the knowledge of their connection for so many years.

“No, it’s not. Because at least then I would know where you are. Instead, I have a fifteen-year-old who prefers to spend his late evenings like he’s Captain Planet.”

“Who?”

“And even then that guy has his planeteers. You, on the other hand, have no backup, _especially_ when you turn off your tracker.” Tony finally took a breath from his lecturing. “You can’t do that, Peter. You can’t just turn off your tracker and not answer when I’m calling, so I’m not sitting here like a jackass wondering where the _hell_ you are in the middle of the night!” _Don’t you realise how much time we were separated from each other? How easily that could be made permanent?_

Peter’s eyes wavered downwards. He didn’t want Mr Stark to worry and he hadn’t meant to stay up so late. He just wanted some air and lost track of time, and before he knew it the call of duty had presented itself once more.

Tony rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. May had warned him about this, about setting boundaries. Sure, Peter overall was a great kid. But being a great kid still came with downfalls. He was _too good_ if anything. “You can’t be there to stop every robbery, Peter. And yes - I saw the news.”

“Nobody got hurt.”

“ _You_ could’ve!” The audacity of this _kid_. When Tony realised he wasn’t getting to him he tried another approach. “I thought we had a deal, bud. You can go patrolling as long as it doesn’t interfere with your life.”

“This is my life!” Peter exclaimed, and then relaxed his shoulders when he felt guilty at snapping at the man when all he had was concern for him. “If I can’t help myself, the least I can do is help others!”

Tony looked confused by the statement. “What?” Peter’s allusion to something happening in his past gave him pause.

Peter ignored him. “Besides, they were just thieves.”

“With guns.”

“That had blanks! And one of them had his safety on. World’s worst robbers, if you ask me.”

“And what if they weren’t? You could’ve gotten shot. Your suit isn’t bulletproof.” Tony left out the fact that he was working on the next type, one that could handle the infliction of more serious injuries.

“Then I would’ve sensed it,” he shrugged, as if it were an everyday thing.

Tony blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. But it’s like…something tingles at the back of my neck. Actually, I wouldn’t say ‘tingling’ because it’s not a happy sort of feeling, more like…”

“Chills,” Tony finished.

“Yeah, exactly. Something that makes my hair stand-up. And it’s constantly happening when my body thinks it’s being threatened. Downside is, it can’t tell between the threat level of a bullet and a foam ball, so I’m always sensing something.” He also left out the fact that the danger could get _too_ close by the time the sense acted up. In other words, he could get shot before he had the time to dodge the bullet, but he wasn’t about to voice that out to his already apprehensive friends and family.

There was a period of silence when the air had settled around their words. Peter said, “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong not giving you a heads up, and I shouldn’t have shut down the suit. I just... I just needed air.”

Tony’s anger faded instantly, recognising Peter’s sudden mood change. “What’s wrong?”

Peter took a moment. He looked like he was about to say what was on his mind when he noticed the time on the kitchen clock. “Shit. I’m late for school.” He left the peanut-buttered toast behind and rushed towards the exit.

Tony grabbed the toast and followed Peter. He placed a hand at the back of his neck when he reached him. “We’re not done talking about this, okay?” he said, handing the boy his breakfast.

Peter accepted the food, saying “I know,” with a mouthful, some spittle coming out.

“Don’t drip toast on my floors. And don’t you dare go on patrol tonight. I’ve seen your workload.”

“By the way,” Peter shifted the backpack onto his back, “who’s Captain Planet?”

Tony sighed. That stung. “Get to school, before I die of old age.”

When Peter was out of sight, Rhodey walked back into the kitchen with a sympathetic look.

“Don’t start,” Tony said.

His friend help up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything. But for what it’s worth, I think you handled it okay.”

Tony shook his head. “I never meant to yell. God, I used it hate it when my dad did that.”

“But you did it with the right intentions. The kid disobeyed you and puts himself in danger almost every night. I think you have a right to feel the way you feel.” He sat on a seat by the island.

Tony went around the kitchen and started making food for the both of them. “Maybe. I still don’t want him to turn out the way I did.”

Rhodey laughed. “Buddy, I think that ship has way passed sailed when he started swinging between high buildings. Also, didn’t you tell me he said he wanted to be like you?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ask him to be.”

“I know. And honestly, you’re not as terrible as you lead people to believe.”

Tony sighed, feeling uncomfortable at the earnestness in his friend’s expression. Glancing at the leg brace he could almost feel the guilt of what happened to his friend seeping back up into his veins. Shaking his head, he offered, “Pancakes?”

“Please. Extra syrup.”

“With diabetes running in your family? I don’t think so.”

“Have you been talking to my mum again?”

“Of course. By the way, she wants to know when she’ll get grandkids.”

“Ugh, can I borrow Peter?”

“I think that’ll raise more questions.”

xXx

The final bell rang and Peter almost made it to Happy when he heard his name being called. He turned around to find Gwen running to catch up to him.

“Hey,” she huffed and spent a few seconds gathering her breaths back. “I’m not out of shape; you’re just a really fast walker!”

Peter chuckled. “What’s up, Gwen?”

“Listen, I thought maybe I should like…ease into it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d take it but…” She saw the confusion on his face. “You know what? Fuck it. Do you wanna go out with me Friday night?”

Peter’s eyes almost bulged. “Did…did you just... I mean, like, hang out or something?”

“That’s what going out means.” Peter’s shoulder’s deflated slightly. “As in a _date_ , Parker.”

“Seriously? Me?”

“Yes, you.” Gwen felt flattered by how flustered he was. “Interested or not?”

“Yeah!” In retrospect, Peter supposed he should have played it cool and not seemed so eager but as Gwen would say, fuck it. This was his first proper date and it was someone who had asked _him_ out. “Oh my God, sure! I’m free.”

“Great. Finally. I’ve been trying to drop hints all day. I was getting so obvious I’m pretty sure the janitor was embarrassed for me. For a smart guy, you’re sure not that observant.”

Peter blinked. Was this really happening? A girl who looked like Gwen Stacy was actually interested in him? Even Liz hadn’t been as forward.

“Anyway,” she continued. “My dad’s waiting. And I think yours is too?” She pointed in the direction of a very grouchy Happy occupied by his phone; probably complaining to his boss about the injustice of being forced to pick up a teenager from school every day this week.

“Oh,” Peter chuckled. “That’s not him. That’s…” he trailed off. Nevermind. It was far too complicated a story to explain within the space of a few seconds. Besides, Gwen was pretty astute. Peter had a feeling that she would be able to piece his story together without his intervention. “So I’ll see you Friday?”

Gwen headed to her parents’ car. “Friday, seven. I’ll text you my address. Don’t be late, Parker.”

Peter reached the car as Happy protested about having to wait so long for him. He didn’t care though. His mind was occupied with was the upcoming date. He couldn’t shake off the smile on his face.

“What’s with the goofy grin?” Happy teased, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “It’s not because of that blonde girl, is it?”

Peter’s grin widened. “Maybe.”

“She’s cute,” Happy said, supportively.

“And smart, and takes down bullies with just her words. _And_ she asked _me_ out. _Me_.”

“And what’s wrong with ‘ _you_ ’? You sound surprised.”

“Come on, Happy.”

“I’m serious. I mean, sure you can get a little, you know,” he waved his hand. “And you wear those shirts and whatnot.” He missed the confused and slightly insulted look on Peter’s face. “But you’re a good kid. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Happy. I think.”

xXx

“Mr Stark?” Peter called out to the lab after punching in his personal code so that he could access the room. Despite having entered the room multiple times, he still felt as if he were intruding - this was Tony’s private space and it still felt as if he had to ask for permission to see a part of a man that he knew now as his father.

“In here, kid. You’re just in time. I’m about to test some cool nanotech shit.” Tony, from his perch at a workbench in the middle of his expansive lab, looked down at the floor and amended, “I mean...stuff.”

“Awesome!” Peter exclaimed, glancing at the mess of wires that were in front of Tony, constructing yet another one of his inventions. He set down his backpack by DUM-E. “Can I go first?”

“No, you hold the camera,” he said, shoving the item to Peter.

“Okay!” Nonplussed, Peter accepted the object.

Tony was relieved; he thought Peter would try and convince him to be the guinea pig.

“By the way, I can’t make it to lab work on Friday.”

Tony focused on applying a device on his chest, similar to that of his old arc reactor. It had metal shoulder straps to hold it in position. “And why not?”

Peter held up the camera, uncomfortable with revealing the truth. “I...well...I’m, uh...”

“Hanging with Ned?”

“No…?”

“Spit it out then, I don’t have all evening.”

“Ihaveadate,” he said in a pace faster than Tony could keep up.

“Try that again?”

“I have a date,” Peter said, slowly this time as he placed the camera on the table to face his father without something between them as he spoke.

“A play date?”

“No!” he retorted petulantly, the pout not helping make his case. “A date-date.”

“Not possible, you’re twelve,” Tony teased.

Not appreciating the jest towards his youthful face, Peter exclaimed, “I’m turning sixteen! I’ll be able to drive soon!”

Tony tried holding back a snort. “Right, of course. God help us all when that day comes.” He recalled the clip of Spider-Man crashing a car (Flash’s, as he later told him) on YouTube. Good thing he had that car replaced to prevent the family from coming after the vigilante.

“Dad, come on!” Peter was too genuinely indignant by his father’s tone to notice that he had once again called him ‘dad’.

Tony, however, didn’t miss it. Admittedly, he had been feeling crestfallen at Peter’s lack of calling him ‘dad’. The fact that it had slipped back into his vernacular reassured him that their spat earlier that morning had not indelibly affected anything. Tony wondered when he would stop considering fatherhood such a perilous journey. Hypervigilance had been necessary since that unfortunate day back in Afghanistan. If he could relax (at least partly) ever again, he always held onto the idea that he could do it with someone who shared his blood: Peter.

He let out a small smile and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Listen. Good luck on your date. Be a gentleman, open doors, offer a chair and all that jazz.”

“I know.” Peter rolled his eyes playfully. “Aunt May already told me all that when I went to Homecoming with Liz.”

“Good. Chivalry won’t die in our genes. Just make sure you don’t leave her in the middle of the date this time.”

“You know if I hadn’t done that your plane-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re an angel. Have you thought about what you’re going to wear?” Tony hoped to God that Peter wasn’t going to say anything with a science pun.

Peter raised his hand to answer but stopped short. “Oh crap, I don’t know. Um, jeans and a t-shirt?”

Tony sighed. “Jeans and a t-shirt. For your first date. You know you’re never gonna get that back, right?”

“Oh man, you’re right. Help me!” The look of earnest panic on his son’s face reminded him that this was a moment that he wouldn’t miss. First steps, first word, riding a bike without training wheels...but first date? He wouldn’t miss that for the world.

Tony smiled widely and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You, my young progeny, have come to the right place.”

xXx

Tony felt like he had waited a lifetime for this moment. He had offered to take him shopping before, of course, but both May and Peter were insistent on not accepting extravagant things that would cost the equivalent of months of rent for them. This time, however, Peter was too anxious about his date to spend time reflecting on the amount of money Tony would spend helping him.

“Um…Mr Stark, isn’t this a little too formal?” Peter said, standing atop the tailor’s podium with trepidation as the elderly man crouched on his knees, taking measurements so that Peter’s trousers would be properly hemmed. Tony had requested a more private section of the store where they wouldn’t be bothered by the public or their cameras. (It helped that he was a valued customer.) Champagne was offered but Tony quickly grabbed the glass before Peter could reach it.

It definitely was too formal, but Tony wasn’t about to waste an opportunity to buy his son as many things as he deserved. “Okay, Petey-Pie, we’ll take the suit and the rest of these clothes and lay out our options when we get home, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter smiled, then faltered. “Can you not call me that in public?”

When they reached home, the two spent a few hours poring through the many, many options that Tony had insisted on compiling together.

Finally, they decided on an outfit and Peter shoved the rest of the items into his closet, missing the gaping look his father gave him. “You can’t shove thousands of dollars of worth into a wardrobe like it’s a yard sale.”

Peter’s eyes widened, his bubble bursting. “How much?”

“Go downstairs and prep the lab.” Tony didn’t want to entertain Peter’s misguided notion that he would somehow owe him some kind of interminable gratitude for a measly amount of money that Tony could have spent on his own breakfast alone. He was his son; as far as Tony was concerned, that granted him access to certain luxuries. And, honestly, it was fun to revel in his wide-eyed amazement.

xXx

The next day when Peter came back from school a vest was immediately thrust upon him. Peter’s senses worked quickly and he caught the item before it smacked against his face. He looked up in confusion at Rhodey who was looking left and right. Before Peter could ask, the man took his elbow and led him to cover behind the sofa by one of the many living rooms in the compound.

“What’s going on?” Peter looked around him, expecting a security breach of some kind. He reached for his web-shooters in the backpack but Rhodey caught his elbow and put a plastic gun into his hand. “What’s going on, Mr Rhodes?” he asked again, this time with a hint of amusement.

“Shh, not so loud. The walls have ears. And I told you, call me Rhodey.”

“Okay, Mr Rhodey.” Peter chuckled, “You guys started a game of laser tag without me?”

“You’re just in time, kid. Tony and I are picking teams, and I just about caught you.”

“That’s cheating!” a voice boomed over them. “You can’t use my own son against me!” They heard protests from Pepper, who was now on Tony’s team, to stay down before they’re thrown out of the game that early.

Rhodey called out, “You snooze, you lose, Stark!” He turned to the kid. “Leave everything behind. It’s just you, me...” he lifted the gun, “And the war. Don’t let me down, soldier.”

Several minutes and multiple reloads later, they decided to call it a tie. After which, Rhodey rested his legs while Peter encouraged (or more like pulled at Tony’s elbow) to do some cooking. Tony insisted he had a personal chef for this, but Peter was admanant in keeping up the tradition he had with his aunt while she was away.

Pepper thought it was endearing. She and Peter even ganged up against Tony and covered him in flour.

Despite the abundant mess they left the kitchen the brownies turned out pretty good, if Tony said so himself.

xXx

Friday arrived too soon, and Tony was helping Peter with his tie as he went over the ground rules.

“When she gets up to use the bathroom?”

“I stand up.”

“When she says she’s not feeling well?”

“I walk her home.”

“You’ll be back by?”

“Ten thirty.”

“Because we want to?”

“Respect her parents’ wishes.”

Tony smiled, satisfied by Peter’s answers. He finished the tie and smoothed out his son’s newly-pressed shirt. And because Tony couldn’t help himself, “And remember, always, _always_ ,” he stopped for dramatic effect, “use protection.” He almost laughed at the way Peter’s eyes widened.

“Oh...my God! No! This isn’t- I’m not even- this is my first date- I’m-“ he paused when he saw his dad grinning playfully at him. “I should go.”

Tony laughed. “Go, kid. Have fun on your date – but not too much fun – and let me know how it goes!” He turned to the driver standing by the doorway. “Happy, drop him off.”

“Sure, what better things do I have to do on a Friday night than drop off a fifteen-year-old to go on his first date? It’s not like I made any plans to go on a date with my girlfriend.”

“I know for a fact that you broke up with her a month ago.” Before Happy could protest further, Tony held up his hand, “Besides, you have the rest of the night off to do whatever it is you do when you’re roaming around NYC. You even have the car.” Tony had offered one from his most expensive collection to compensate. Plus, a tip so generous even Happy could set aside his annoyance for one night.

Happy sighed frustratingly. “Fine.” He turned to the teenager. “But you’re still sitting at the back.”

xXx

Tony was so nervous for the boy it felt like _he_ was going on this date. He waited till Peter showed up at the curfew he set, occupying his time by watching the news and then a movie. Without knowing, his eyes slowly started drooping. He was startled awake by FRIDAY’s voice informing him that Peter was home. Tony removed the blanket from his lap and grabbed his empty mug from the table, catching Peter as he walked out of the lift.

He couldn’t hold back his anticipation. “Hey, Pete. How was the-”

“I’m tired. Going to bed,” was the sudden reply.

Before Tony could process why Peter was giving such curt responses, he was already trudging his way to his room.

That was odd.

He hadn’t had time to confront Peter about it as, the very next morning, Tony was pulled into an emergency business conference that was sending him across the globe. He had almost cancelled and decided to stay but Pepper gave him hell for the notion, (“I cannot keep rescheduling with the board, Tony. I know you have obligations with your newfound fatherhood and I’ve never been more proud of you, honey, but you can’t let the business slide and essentially leave your son with nothing in the future.”)

The guilt-tripping was a low-blow, but he had to admit she was right. As much as it was a struggle to balance his professional and personal life (especially when he was keeping one on the down-low), he needed to set an example for the kid he now had.

It also frustrated Tony because this was the last day before Peter was heading back to his apartment. He wanted to say a few words before he left, but the kid was sleeping and he didn’t have the heart to wake him. If the date turned as bad as Tony feared, he needed as much sleep as he could get. God, he really hoped that blonde girl, Gwen, hadn’t ditched him. Tony didn’t think he could take the distraught look on his face. That was what Aunt May was for, and thank God she made it back in time for this.

May arrived home the night before and she was eager to see her nephew again. Tony knew for a fact with the way Peter was talking about his aunt that he missed her too.

Something pulled at his chest and he hoped that, someday, maybe Peter would feel the same longing during his absence.

Maybe he wouldn’t, if Tony ended up prioritising one life over the other. It wasn’t something he ever thought he was going to worry over. He made the decision a long time ago he wasn’t cut out for family, kids and all that white picket fence. The cycle of shame that was sex, booze and his adversary relationship with his father would die with him.

That changed when Tony discovered he had fathered a son.

He spent the entire plane ride ruminating over whether he made the right choice by leaving when something was obviously wrong with Peter. Although this meeting was definitely important to drawing investors to keep Stark Industries going, he couldn’t shake off the dirty feeling that he chose money over family. The promise he made to himself about not turning out like his father when he found out about Peter was coming back to bite him.

That feeling increased tenfold when Tony hadn’t received a call or text from Peter during the entire trip. Sure, the kid replied with one-worded answers to his texts so at least Tony was reassured he wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but that was a huge step back from his usually all-caps energy and overuse of emoticons (half the time Tony couldn’t even decipher them). He was side-eyed by the men in suits around him when he kept glancing at his phone during conversations but their condescending “Do you have more important things, Mr Stark?” be damned because, yes, he had a kid to catch up with.

A kid who was not acting like himself. The anxiety levels reached a point where he had to get Happy to check up on the boy and all Happy could tell him was that he seemed alright, just not talkative. Tony almost yelled at the man, _that’s not normal!_

He left voicemails. Peter never called back.

xXx

It was Tuesday night when Tony finally made it back to the compound. After the amount of old, boring suck-ups he had been dealing with all weekend, he was more than looking forward to seeing his son’s face again tomorrow after school.

The kid dragged his feet into the kitchen with the same expression he wore since the last time he saw him.

“Hey,” Tony said, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. _Teenagers just needed their space_ , he tried to justify. _It’s not uncommon for a parent to deal with._

Peter only acknowledged his father with a nod.

Screw. This. It was not common behaviour. This was Peter, for crying out loud. “So I’ve tried calling you…” Translation: I have called. Numerous times. I could be named helicopter parent of the year with the amount of messages I left and I’d be more annoyed that I’m being ignored but this is very strange behaviour for you so I will reel it in. “And I didn’t hear much back, so I have to ask… Is it me? Did I book the wrong restaurant? Did she not like the food? Are you mad at me or something?”

“No,” Peter said. Even in this mood he was still reassuring his mentor. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what? What happened on that date?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Peter muttered.

“Why not?” He tried to ease into the conversation by joking, “Did she pinch those baby cheeks? I know how you don’t like it when I do that.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Peter snapped this time.

In all the time Tony had known him, he’d never heard Peter use that tone on him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Can we just...get on with this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, I’ll just go.”

“Peter!” he gently tugged at his arm, a little trick he learned from May when Peter wasn’t feeling talkative but needed a little encouragement. This was Peter’s ‘I want to talk but I don’t know how’ mood. He came across it before when the kid was opening up stories about his uncle. “Hey,” he said gently. “Talk to me.” He sat on a seat on the kitchen island and offered Peter the one next to it. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Did she ditch you?” The boy shook his head. “Then what?”

Peter shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, and then finally said, “We went to that restaurant you booked…I should’ve said thank you, Mr Stark. You went out of your way to get us a table and pay for our food and I just-”

“Hey, Peter,” Tony stopped him. “I was more than happy to do that for you. Tell me, what happened after?”

“We walked…went to the park and talked. It was nice…” Peter took a deep breath and the corner of his lip lifted slightly, “I had my first kiss.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. He at least hadn’t missed this milestone. “Is that it? Did her mouth taste like cigarette ash or something?”

“No. The kiss was nice,” he smiled softly. “It’s when…it got kinda handsy.”

“ _Who_ got handsy?”

“It wasn’t her, it was me.”

“ _You_ got handsy?” Tony asked incredulously.

“NO! I’m not explaining this well,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

 _Thank God_ , Tony thought. He really didn’t want to have to have _that_ conversation, even if he had poked fun at ‘using protection’ the other night it’s not like he had _meant_ it. If there was one thing Tony was sure of, it was his son’s...inactivity...in that particular subject. “What was the problem? You didn’t want…to go further? Which is what you should not do, by the way. I was kidding about that protection thing. You’re way too young.” He could hear the hypocrisy bell ringing in his head, but he didn’t want his son to make the same mistakes he did. He was way too young to get involved in things that his not fully-developed mind had no business getting into yet.

“I did a little bit…” he looked at Tony. His father wasn’t pushing him, his face was patient. This was probably why Peter kept going. “She wanted more…but I got flashbacks.”

“Flashbacks?” Tony felt something uncomfortable shifting in his gut.

Peter sighed. This was it, there was no turning back from the past now. He got this far, he may as well lay it all out. “When I was little, I was molested by someone who I thought was my friend.”

The silence that followed almost suffocated Peter.

As if Tony didn’t quite hear him, he said, “What.”

It didn’t sound like a question, Peter realised. “I met him in a library. He told me I could call him Skip.

“I didn’t have many friends and then suddenly there’s this high school senior who had an interest in what I was saying. It was nice to talk to someone who was listening, especially when I talked about science. He nicknamed me _Einstein_.” The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Eventually, I invited him over to have dinner with my aunt and uncle. They took a liking to him and he became my babysitter.”

Tony felt as if he would physically be sick. The only thing that prevented him from upending his lunch was the fact that he wanted to hear what his son had to say.

Peter continued, lost in memories he thought he had long since buried. “One day, things changed. Aunt May had to drop me off at his place. His mom was always working.” Recalling the events had started to make him nauseous. “He said he wanted to ‘conduct an experiment’,” Peter’s voice shook. He gulped down the lump threatening to bring out his tears. He lost in the end. The tremor in his voice turned into a full-blown sob when he could no longer subdue the stress of the phone call that brought everything back. “I should’ve said something, but I was just so scared.” Peter rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying desperately to stop the break-down in front of his mentor. “I’m sorry,” Peter’s voice cracked as he wiped his tears. “I know you didn’t invite me for this.”

Tony felt something inside him snap. “No, Peter. Don’t apologise, especially for something that wasn’t in any way your fault. You were only a child.” He wanted to reach out to the kid, but they hadn’t talked much about physical boundaries and he especially didn’t want to do anything to upset him now.

Screw it. His kid was hurting and he couldn’t damn well do nothing. Slowly, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter, waiting to see if he would recoil. Surprisingly, he didn’t and instantly melted onto his side, drooping his weight against Tony’s, head falling on his chest.

They sat there for some moments, until Peter was able to collect himself.

Tony asked, “How long did this go on for?”

“A couple of months,” Peter said, straightening back up. “I told Ned when I just couldn’t see a way out anymore. He told me it wasn’t normal and that Skip didn’t sound like a good friend. He urged me to tell May and Ben. And I did. I never saw Skip again.”

“Good,” Tony said quickly. His mind, however, dwelled on the words, _couldn’t see a way out_. He wanted to say something else, but the sound of Peter’s phone ringing cut him off.

“It’s Aunt May.” He answered the call with as much normalcy as he could muster. “Hey. Yeah, I’m here…now? Okay.” He hung up. “She needs me to come home. She says sorry to cut the time short.”

“It’s okay, Pete. Happy will be waiting for you downstairs.” Peter nodded and they both stood. Tony placed gentle hands on his shoulders. “Hey, I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you to talk about. Thank you for sharing that part of your past with me.” Peter could only nod as he headed to the lift. “Just one more thing – what was his name again? Skip?”

“Sort of. His actual name is Steven Westcott.”

“Mm. Go on, your aunt is waiting.”

With a final wave Peter left the kitchen area.

Tony took a deep breath, trying to find some ‘zen’ within him, as Vision once advised him from a book he read about the art of relaxing your aura or some nonsense.

But this time, he couldn’t. His rage was boiling. Zen was shoved into a bottle and defenestrated.

Tony rushed to his lab and called out, “FRIDAY.”

“Yes, boss.”

“I need you to look into every detail of this Steven Westcott – his address, his job, his social security number. Every person he has ever come across, I want to know about it.”

“Yes, sir. What would you like to do with this information?”

“I’ll decide when I’m not surrounded by my weapons.”

* * *

  **TBC**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wash my hands with bleach.
> 
> Source material: http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix/westcott.htm
> 
> P.S. I have no excuse for Peter singing a TS song. It just came on when I was writing the scene.
> 
> P.P.S. For the date, I drew a random name out of the hat of Peter’s many love interests in the comics. He got around, boii. (Like father like son, I should say.)
> 
> P.P.P.S. That being said, I hope you liked my take on Gwen.
> 
> P.P.P.P.S. I still have Captain Planet on VHS.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: HUGE THANKS TO MY CO-WRITER, MEG, AND HER MAGICAL WRITING FINGERS!
> 
> I researched about the unfortunate victims of this abuse and found heartbreaking material. This was the one I primarily drew inspiration from when I was writing this chapter:
> 
> https://www.chicagotriallaw.com/Sexual-Abuse-and-Assault/Open-Letter-to-a-Sexual-Abuse-Victim.shtml
> 
> If you read the page, you’ll find some similar material in Peter’s letter.
> 
> Same trigger warning. Please read with care.

* * *

**Part II**

* * *

Tony had been wandering the streets of Queens for a while. Much to Happy’s protests he had asked his driver to suddenly stop the car because he could no longer sit in there and let his mind wander so much. He needed space. He needed to get out.

He told Happy to just drive around the neighbourhood while Tony let his feet move. He didn’t notice where they were taking him until he was facing the Parkers’ apartment door.

Tony blinked. After Peter had told him of the incident he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to tear this ‘Skip’ guy to shreds. He couldn’t anyway, because Tony found out that the man was sent to prison after May and Ben Parker filed a complaint and opened a case.

Unfortunately, as Tony had learned a long time ago, the system could be prodded and poked until it created a loophole.

‘Parole hearing based on good behaviour,’ he had read in FRIDAY’s findings. What a bunch of utter bullshit. This...this _monster_ was being considered a hearing for ‘good behaviour’, after destroying his son’s life and possibly many other lives of innocent children.

Jesus, what a world they lived in.

Tony lifted his hand to knock but to his surprise the door whipped open before his knuckles could reach. May didn’t notice him with her head down and almost bumped into the man, letting out a slight gasp.

“Whoa,” Tony said as his hands reached out to steady her.

“Tony, hey. What are you doing here?” May was dressed in her work clothes, clearly ready to start her shift soon.

“I’m sorry, May. I shouldn’t have come here. You’re obviously about to head to work.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Tony shook his head. “Actually, no. Peter told me about Skip.”

May froze for a few seconds, then nodded. “I figured he might.” She looked at her watch and said, “Come in, I have some time.”

“No, I don’t want to make you late-”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to get some shopping done before work. But this is more important.” She walked back in and gave Tony room to follow and close the door behind. “Would you like anything to drink?” she called out from the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Once May settled beside him on the living room couch, mug of tea in hand, she asked, “What did Peter tell you exactly?”

Tony huffed. “Just that this guy - Steven Westcott - had…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Ben and I,” she swallowed, her stomach churning with nausea, “we couldn’t believe we let this happen for so long-”

“Whoa, wait,” he placated. “None of this was your fault.”

“Of course it was,” she hissed, still unforgiving towards herself. “We were so caught up in work and financial problems that we failed to see the signs. Every time I dropped him off at Skip’s he always made excuses - he was old enough to stay home alone, he didn’t need a babysitter, he would rather visit me at work…” May shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “God, I was such a fool.”

Tony gulped. “May, you did everything you could for Peter. This wasn’t on you or Ben. This was on _him_.” He figured no matter what he said, May wouldn’t take in a word. She was too caught up in her guilt and self-loathing, a state of mind Tony knew all too well.

“Did he tell you about the call?” May asked suddenly.

“What call?”

“A few weeks ago I received a call about the hearing. They wanted Peter to come in and basically give a statement, if he is able to.” May shook her head. “I wanted to protect Peter from all that again, so at first I didn’t tell him.”

“Understandable.” And he meant it, Tony would’ve probably done the same thing.

“But Peter’s not the type to stay silent, especially after the whole Spider-Man thing.” She sighed, “If I know my nephew, he...”

“Would make sure that son of bitch never sees outside of a prison wall,” Tony finished with certainty. He spent more than enough time with his son to know at least that.

May nodded, then said, “Tony.” He looked at her. “He needs you.”

Tony blinked, feeling a quickening in his chest. “He said that?”

“He doesn’t have to. I know he wants you to be there.” Tony let the words sink in. May continued, “The hearing is next week.”

Tony nodded, silently making the commitment to go. “Do you guys need a ride?”

May shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I can drive us both. Besides, we don’t want to draw too much attention.”

“Driving in a $100,000 Bentley too much?” he joked, making May laughed with him. “But seriously, let me drive you to work - I insist. It’s the least I could do.”

May relented, “Okay, Tony.”

xXx

During his study hall, Peter wandered outside, finally settling himself onto the bleachers in front of the football field. He took out his chemistry textbook and worksheet but couldn’t seem to focus for more than a moment at a time. He definitely had other things on his mind. Peter was so engrossed in his thoughts, in fact, that he didn’t even realise that Gwen had walked up to his position on the bleachers and sat down beside him, arms laden with books.

“Hey,” Peter greeted her finally, feeling awkward. His uncomfortable feeling was mostly due to the fact that a few days ago Gwen had come striding up to his locker apologising profusely for what had happened on their date. Despite Peter’s constant reassurance that it was not her fault at all, Gwen had been unrelenting in her pursuit to assuage whatever emotions Peter had been experiencing that night. It had been exhausting trying to keep himself calm and at bay while simultaneously comforting a girl that had put him in a panicked situation in the first place. It hadn’t been Gwen’s fault, he was truthful in his answers. However, Peter couldn’t deny that he had felt the uneasiness settling onto him like a second skin. It was difficult to pretend like it hadn’t meant nothing.

Gwen smiled and nodded at him but didn’t say anything as she opened her own textbook. They worked in companionable silence until she asked, “Did you apply the equation on page eight for question six? I keep getting different answers.”

Peter’s head moved to the page. “Oh, no that one. Use the molecular formula as your key.”

Gwen clicked her pen. “Right, duh.” When she finished the question, she glanced at him, wondering how to start a conversation she’d been wanting to have since the beginning of the week. “Hey, Peter?”

“Hm?” he replied without looking up from his book. He was writing a few answers for question seven.

“Do you think...maybe...I mean, if you’re available…” Gwen felt as if Peter could visibly see how uncomfortable she felt. She _wanted_ to ask him a question but something about him made her nervous and knocked her off-course from the strong, confident young woman she was. Something she had done at their date on Friday had made Peter very nervous. This, in turn, made Gwen hyper-aware of her words and actions. She had to take care that she didn’t make the same mistake twice.

Finally, she worked up the nerve. “Do you wanna hang out this Friday after school?”

Peter stopped writing as he turned to her in surprise. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected Gwen to ever come near him again with the way he abruptly ended their first date. When he had reached home that Friday night and had time to reflect on the fact that he had had to physically push Gwen off of him, he felt horrible. He had enjoyed the feeling of having her close to him, the intoxicatingly cloying scent of her perfume and the way her fingers brushed first through his hair, then down his back and…

It had been going well until his memory had reminded him of other hands that had been in those same places.

After a few moments of trying to forget the past and remain in the present, Peter realised that it was hopeless. He had been dwelling on past events for too long and suddenly he couldn’t distinguish Gwen’s hands from... _his._ His throat had closed and his eyes snapped open, senses akin to those he felt when he had been out on patrol and in danger. _Get out,_ his mind had supplied him with, _it’s not going to happen again._

Peter shook his head; he had already made the determination that Friday night after the disastrous date that he was not going to let the past keep clouding the present. He liked Gwen. A lot. She had no ill intentions toward him. It was difficult to remember that - a hand was a hand, no matter who it belonged to and the fact of the matter was the last time anyone had been _down there -_

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’d love that. I mean, I didn’t think...” He trailed off, then a thought crossed his mind. “There’s this ice cream parlour down my road I think you’d love. They have this amazing marshmallow flavour.”

“I didn’t even know that existed,” she grinned. “It’s a date!” After not hearing from Peter all weekend, she had thought that maybe she had come on too strong. Peter reassured her every time she brought it up, but still she couldn’t help that gut feeling that something was wrong. Something about the way he was looking at her now gave her the feeling that she was right.

Gwen had asked MJ if this was normal behaviour for Peter; after all she had only just met him. MJ had retorted that she wasn’t his gatekeeper. Not satisfied, Gwen asked Ned at his locker and he had simply said that she hadn’t done anything wrong, Peter just needed to work some things out.

“What kind of things?” Gwen had asked.

“Just...things. Look, I’m not supposed to say anything but if it makes you feel better, Peter really enjoyed the date.”

Gwen snorted in disagreement. “Then why did he leave? I feel like I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t! I promise! It’s not you. Like I said, Peter just has stuff on his mind.” Gwen didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. Ned said, “For what it’s worth, he really likes you.”

She smiled at that.

Peter glanced down at the Tag Heuer watch encircling his wrist. The brown camel strap and black opalin dial were a far cry from the cheap Timex he had used to wear. The time piece had given him such sticker shock that he was embarrassed for other Midtown Science students to see it; he mostly covered it with the sleeve of his hoodie and rarely rolled it up to look at the hands. Flash once caught him surveying the time and grabbed his wrist, demanding to know how on earth he could afford a five and a half thousand dollar wristwatch while living in a ‘dump of an apartment’.

Ned had immediately answered for him, “Mr Stark got it for him.”

“Ned!” Peter hissed, afraid his best friend was about to blow his cover. “Uh, it’s a company watch. You know, because of the-”

“Stark Internship,” Flash had said, a hint of sour incredulity in his voice. “Does Tony Stark know that you’re stealing his office supplies?”

Before Peter could reply, Ned answered for him again, “Peter doesn’t steal!” he said, offended at the accusation thrown towards Spider-Man himself. Peter pulled him aside and told him to just ignore Flash. This incident, on top of the already curious glances he got surrounding the pre-released SI headphones he received, had brought more baffled mumbles around him. Peter had decided that he would no longer bring anything Mr Stark had given him to school, if only to dissuade suspicion. People were starting to come up to him and ask if he would get Tony Stark to give them a job.

Gwen looked up from the problem she was working on and followed Peter’s engrossed gaze to his wrist. “That’s nice,” she remarked, indicating the watch that Peter seemingly couldn’t life his eyes off of.

“What? Oh!” Peter seemed to snap out of his stupor. The decathlon team was supposed to meet in the library in three minutes. “Crap, we’re going to be late.”

“MJ’s not big on the whole tardy thing,” Peter said between breaths as he and Gwen rushed to make it from the football field into the high school. “She once threatened to cut my balls off in my sleep. Knowing her, I have no doubt in my mind that she'd do it.” Gwen laughed and she hurried to keep pace alongside him.

After the session, Peter congratulated Gwen on getting through her first practise on the team.

MJ had grilled her with questions, just to make sure she had rightfully earned her spot. Flash tried too hard to impress her by answering the fastest and subsequently getting the most wrong. MJ reprimanded Flash, (“Stop answering the first thing that pops into your thick skull over a stupid pissing contest with Parker.”). The team laughed. Mr Harrington told everyone to settle down. Rinse and repeat.

They walked out of practise feeling lighter on their feet. Peter especially, with everything else going on in his life.

“Not bad, Stacy,” the leader of the team fist-bumped Gwen.

“Hey, how come you never tell us we did a good job?” Ned pouted.

“When you don’t almost set fire to the curtains behind the stage, we'll talk.”

Ned lifted his arms in exasperation. “That was one time and Flash tripped me.”

“How about you don’t run with a beaker full of flammable chemicals?” MJ shot back. “I’m out. Later, Stacy.” She then saluted to the boys, “Losers.”

Gwen turned to Ned and Peter. “Does she always call you that?”

“Yeah,” Peter grinned. “But it’s more out of affection. Maybe. I don’t know. I can never get a read on her.”

“Yet,” Ned said, “her eyes always look like they see into your soul. It’s spiritually violating.”

Gwen laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

“With you, maybe,” Ned mumbled. “Better get going. My mom invited some relatives over for dinner, which means I have to host the most obnoxious cousin in the world.”

“I’m sure Ray-Ray is a bit too old to be putting whoopee cushions under your sofa, Ned.” His cousin was only about a year older than them.

“You’d think! But he does it. Every time. _To me_. Why does he always do it to me?” he huffed. “ _And_ he keeps stealing my things! I told my mom so many times to get him to stop doing that but she keeps replying with these ‘inspiration quotes’ I can never understand. I think she's just trying to get me to share.”

“Sharing is caring, Ned,” Gwen mocked.

“Ha-ha,” he said, dryly. “I'll see you, guys. If I'm not in school tomorrow I'm on the run for murder.”

“He’s not that bad, dude,” Peter said.

“Easy for you to say. For some reason, he likes you.”

“Maybe because I didn't eat the last halo-halo cup at your family’s barbecue.”

Ned threw his arms up in exasperation for the second time. “Why is everyone grilling me today?” As if reading his mind, Ned stopped Peter, “No, that was not a pun!” He waved goodbye and left the two to their own devices.

Peter took Gwen’s hand and led her to the place her promised.

Once Peter and Gwen got close enough to the parlour to see inside the window, Peter nearly exhaled audibly. Something about the familiar old-fashioned crystal glasses lined up in the bay window made him think about a different time. He thought about when he was younger and how his Uncle Ben would console him for a sundry mix of things - getting yelled at by a teacher in school, feeling sad because he had misplaced a favourite toy, etc - with ice cream. Aunt May and Uncle Ben hadn’t been poor but they hadn’t been rich either and it was always a treat when his Uncle took him to get ice cream. They would sit down at a perpetually-sticky table by the bay window and his Uncle would look at him above the laminated menu that hadn’t changed since he had gone there as a kid and would, “Get whatever you want, Pete. The sky’s the limit.”

After they had ordered and eaten their ice cream (Gwen remarked that marshmallow ice cream was, in fact, delicious) Peter pulled out the luxurious leather wallet Tony had slipped him the other night on a ride home.

“Presentation is key,” he had said. At the time, Peter was embarrassed at being gifted with yet another expensive item. It wasn’t until he had walked into the apartment that he realised the wallet was stuffed with cash - $400 worth. He had been so paranoid about something happening to it that he put all but fifty dollars of it into a shoebox beneath his bed.

Gwen made a grab for her own wallet but Peter placed a gentle hand over her wrist. “I’ve got this,” he said, finally feeling comfortable being able to flaunt the money his dad had given him. Even if he hadn’t exactly done anything to earn the cash himself, it felt good to feel like a man, like someone Gwen could depend upon.

They walked to a nearby park, circling around the perimeter before finally settling on a bench. The conversation focused mostly on school, decathlon and general miscellaneous topics until Gwen felt brave enough to broach the subject of what was bothering her.

“So, we're really okay?” she asked, still apprehensive about what happened the previous week on their date. To her relief, Peter nodded eagerly.

“Of course. I thought…well, I thought you might've been, I don't know, mad at me?” Peter seemed sheepish in his delivery.

“I'm not mad, Peter,” she said sincerely. “Just confused. I mean, we were…really getting into it. And then we…weren't.” Peter looked down at his hands. “Look, it’s cool if you wanna wait because I wanna wait too-”

“It's not that, I mean it _is_ that, but that wasn't…that wasn't what happened.”

Gwen felt fear and confusion stir within her, especially when she got a look at the boy’s face. “Peter, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Despite Gwen’s reassurance, Peter wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. Ned knew and that was bad enough. When people discovered things like this, they found a way to remind him of it. A sympathetic look, a reminder, _you can come to me whenever you need to_ , they were all done with good intentions but in the end… Well, it just made him remember.

“There are just some things… I'm not sure…” Peter hedged.

Gwen saw him clearly struggling. She reached for his hand and reassured, “It's okay. You don't have to tell me.” She couldn’t deny that she was curious about what was bothering Peter but she knew enough not to press him.

Peter nodded. He wanted to. Just…not right now. Instead, he only squeezed her hand back in response.

“So.” She turned away from Peter, staring out at the vast expanse of grass in front of them. “Tell me, Parker. Is it true what Ned says?”

Peter threw her a cautious look. “And what exactly did Ned say?”

“That you have an internship with Tony Stark and know the Avengers?”

Alarm bells went ringing in his head. If he didn't tread carefully, she would catch on to the truth of it all. “Yes and no. I mean, Mr Stark mentors me and stuff.”

“That’s pretty cool. If Tony Stark would mentor anyone, it would be you.”

Peter blushed. “I'm surprised you even believe me.”

Gwen recalled the mockery he faced from the others. Flash’s comments never helped. “You don't strike me as the deceitful type. Trust me, I came across my fair share of them. My dad taught me the signs.”

“Oh right, you mentioned your dad was a cop.”

“I actually applied for an internship with Stark Industries, but they only give a week’s worth of work experience for students in high school, not internships.” Peter froze for a few seconds, trying to come up with an answer that sounded more convincing than, “Oh, he basically asked me to fight with the Avengers.” But then Gwen joked, “Who did you sell your soul to?”

Peter laughed nervously. “Isaac Newton, obviously. What else did Ned say about me?”

“Only good things, I promise. Oh! He did also mention that you met that guy who swings around in Queens?”

“S-Spider-Man?”

Gwen clicked her fingers. “That’s it! He wears that red spandex suit, right?”

“It's not made of spandex!”

“So you _do_ know him.”

Peter closed his mouth shut. Then he said, “Not-not really. I only met him once...through the Stark internship.”

“What was he like?”

“I didn’t really...talk to him?” He could hear his voice getting higher. Surely, she wasn’t buying this. “I only do lab work, mostly.”

“Is that how you managed to pay for that ridiculously overpriced restaurant?”

Peter’s mind struggled for an answer that wouldn’t give an indication to his background. “Um, sort of? It was a favour, really. Because I meet people during social networks, you know? And I made friends with cool people-rich people, I mean. And they’re...nice.” _Stop rambling!_

“Uh-huh,” Gwen looked like she was trying to buy it. “So your family can afford a chauffeur, but not a meal at _Craft_?”

“I don’t have a chauffeur.” At Gwen’s perplexed looked he explained, “That was Mr Stark’s driver! There was an emergency lab thing and he needed me there pronto.”

Gwen raised her brow. “Wow, he really takes this mentoring thing seriously if he picks you up from school.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “Hey, do you wanna meet my aunt?”

She blinked at the change of conversation. The implication of the question sank in. “Oh, really?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, you’d love her.”

Gwen smiled. “Okay.”

xXx

Peter’s apartment was a few blocks from the park and when they reached outside the building Gwen pulled him aside and pointed at something. His eyes widened as he realised that was his father’s flashy car. _Seriously?_ he thought. _This is Queens not Beverly Hills!_

“Wow,” Gwen said. “Who would be brave enough to park this car in these parts?”

 _Iron Man, obviously_ , Peter grumbled. “Listen, Gwen, I just remembered something came up and introductions are going have to wait. I’m really sorry!”

Gwen couldn't say she wasn’t disappointed but nodded in understanding. “It’s okay. Um, I should be heading home anyway.”

“I’ll walk you?”

“To the other side of town?” she said, amused. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

There was a moment where they stood awkwardly, not knowing how to say goodbye. But then they both leaned in, sharing a hug that lingered longer than either of them expected, melting into each other’s embrace. When they broke apart and Gwen was out of sight, Peter sighed and walked up into his apartment.

Normally, he was thrilled to get a visit from his father, but knowing how they left things previously he wasn’t sure how this visit was going to go. He knew Aunt May was home, which meant they had talked and she told him about the hearing.

The hearing. He still didn’t know what he was going to do. As far as Peter was concerned, when he wanted something gone, he buried it. For a long time, it had felt like he could keep everything from escaping to surface level but since the incident with Gwen, he knew his grip was slipping. The mere thought of Skip, let alone facing him in a courtroom with onlookers, was enough to make Peter want to walk out of the building and go back to the ice cream parlour.

He remembered Uncle Ben had tried to enact his tried and true method of fixing problems with ice cream back when his secret had been discovered but nothing had absolved him of the feeling the interactions with Skip gave him. He had stared at the ice cream until it melted into a syrupy soup at the bottom of the glass bowl. “Let’s go home,” his uncle had said. It didn’t occur to Peter until right then that his uncle hadn’t touched his dessert, either.

He opened his apartment door and was met with his aunt and father sitting on the couch and drinking tea. A talk show was playing muted on the television and Peter spied a plate of gourmet cookies from Tony’s favourite bakery on the coffee table. Tony immediately smiled at his son’s entrance.

“Hey,” Peter said to him, then, “Hey, Aunt May.”

“Hey, yourself,” May said. “How was school?”

Peter removed his backpack and carelessly dropped it by the sofa as he took a seat beside her. “Good. I hung out with Gwen after. We went to _Eddie’s Sweet Shop_.” He removed a box of pastries from his bag. “I got you your favourite.”

May grinned and took the proffered box. “You saved my sweet tooth! I’m going to eat one of these right now on my way to work.” She stood up and then swivelled back towards Tony. “Do you want one?”

Tony waved her off, watching as she walked into the kitchen before turning his gaze back onto his son. There was something cautious in his expression and he seemed about to say something to Peter when May walked back into the room, purse on her shoulder, keys in one hand, large frosted cinnamon roll in the other. She took a large bite out of the pastry, closing her eyes in rapture.

“So, you’re going to work?” Peter asked, watching as she practically inhaled the dessert. His aunt had always had a thing for cinnamon rolls. Even when Peter had tried to cheer her up after Uncle Ben had died and burned the batch he’d wanted to give to her, she still lifted one blackened roll off the tray and bit into it, declaring it delicious.

“Yeah, I got roped into doing another night shift. You’ll be okay for the night?” Peter nodded. “Besides, your-...Tony, is here to keep you company.” Intending to say _your father_ , she fumbled over her words. She supposed she was still getting used to the idea, even after two months.

Peter looked at Tony who had squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“Have a good night, boys.” May walked out the door, licking the remnants of the treat off of her fingers as she went.

They waved back as she walked out the door, leaving the two in peaceful quiet while Tony cleaned up, placing the now-empty mugs into the sink.

“So,” Peter started.

“So,” Tony echoed, sitting beside him on the couch. “How was decathlon?”

Peter shrugged. “Good. MJ was making Gwen work for her spot. Flash was...Flash.”

“Flash? Is that the same kid that keeps bothering you?”

Peter’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to mention him. “Yeah, but, it-it’s not a big deal. I’ve got it handled.”

Tony didn’t look like he believed him. “If you say so. But if he keeps giving you trouble then I’m not above going down there and-”

“Telling the entire school that I’m your son?”

He paused. “That you’re my intern and should be treated with a little respect. Look, I came across Flashes in my school days. I know how to put them in their place.”

“It’s okay, really. Nothing he says bothers me that much anyway.”

Tony could only wish the truth of it wasn’t written on his face. “Alright. You still hungry? ‘Course you are, you’re a teenage boy, an enhanced one at that.” He grabbed his cell. “We’ll order some Chinese?”

“Can we have Thai?”

“Sure.”

Peter put on a movie while they waited and the food arrived about thirty minutes into it. As they dug into their respective dishes, Tony went over the day he had and Peter went into detail about his blossoming relationship with Gwen.

“I’m glad you found a nice girl, Pete.”

“More like she found me. And yeah, she’s really cool.”

“You got any more dates planned? I can book another restaurant for you guys.”

“No, no way! It was hard enough explaining the first date. I had to tell her it was a favour from some rich person I met at a function.”

“You don’t go to functions.” Tony paused, an idea forming. “Maybe you should,” he mumbled. He wanted an excuse to show off Peter’s talent and now he had one. “There’s a network gathering coming up. All the science geeks and rich snobs you can talk to.”

“Really? That’d be awesome.”

“Watch out for the opportunists though, they’ll say anything to snatch you.”

“Never. Unless they offer a good cupcake.”

“Well then, how can you pass that up?”

They shared a few more laughs and finished up their food. Finally, Tony was able to ease into the topic he had been wanting to talk to his son about since coming over. He had just handed Peter hot chocolate - his favourite kind with small marshmallows sprinkled at the top - and made himself decaf coffee when his eyes trailed over a few pictures sitting around the apartment.

Tony didn't make a habit of visiting Queens. His schedule and fear of his relation to Peter being discovered made regular visits almost impossible. Unless it was a situation like this, where he felt that he needed to be making an effort to understand Peter’s world for a change; maybe help his son feel more comfortable talking about his situation without feeling like a stranger in his environment.

It also gave Tony the opportunity to understand the place that his son grew up and see pictures of his smiling young face. May had invited him over once to go through some pictures albums, to make the feeling of missing out on his son growing up less painful. That longing will always be there, but he had to admit those pictures of a six-month-old Peter brought a sappy grin to his face, (he may have made a few copies for his keepsake).

Tony made a conscious effort to separate the infant he had glimpsed in those photos from the teenaged version staring at him now. “Peter?”

Peter’s shoulders hunched forward. He knew that tone. His father wanted to have a serious conversation. This either ended up with him being lectured or getting his suit taken away. Or both. However, this particular tone had a gentleness to it. Peter sipped his hot chocolate, the marshmallows already melting. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Not exactly the first thing Peter thought Tony was gonna ask. “Right now? Good, I guess. I mean, I have hot chocolate.”

“Glad you still have your sense of humour to distract yourself from the elephant in the room. God, you really are my son,” he mumbled to himself. “Listen, we both know your infuriatingly high moral compass isn’t going to let you sit on the sidelines while some judge decides whether a monster should go back out there in the streets. My question is, are you going to be able to handle seeing him again?”

Peter’s hands tightened around his mug of hot chocolate. If he wasn't careful, he was going to break it and have the pieces embedded into his skin. “I don't know… “ The truth was, he was terrified. However, the urge to prevent himself from breaking down when someone or something else deserved his attention more was stronger. He was Spider-Man now.

“Okay. Let me ask you this: what do you want to say to him?”

Peter shook his head. “I don't know.”

“Yes, you do.” When Peter shook his head again Tony thought of another approach. “When my parents died, I was a mess.” He saw the surprised look on his son’s face. He had Peter’s full attention now at least. “The worst part of losing people is not knowing you're going to lose them, so you don't get to say what you really feel…” Tony lost himself in his memories. “In the end, during a weird drunken-high phase that you'll never experiment on,” he said pointedly, “my brain decided to grab a piece of paper and pen, and I just started writing.”

“What did you write?”

“Everything. The good, the bad, the mediocre middle. I wrote exactly how I felt. It was a letter addressed to my parents. And that's what I want you to do.”

“You want me to write a letter?”

“Exactly.” Tony looked at the teen. “Peter, right now I want you to forget the hearing. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you have a responsibility to be there in court. Just forget about being in that courtroom for a moment. Write a letter. Do this for yourself. What do _you_ have to say? If this Skip is standing there right now,” he pointed in front of them, “what would you say to him?”

Peter was quiet, letting what his father had said sink in. He was so absorbed in his thinking that he didn’t even see Tony get up and place paper and pen in front of him.  

Eventually, Peter looked up from the paper and then back at his father. Tony said, “You don’t have share with me, May or anyone, what you write on that piece of paper.”

Slowly, Peter set down his mug and picked up the pen with trepidation.

xXx

The hearing arrived sooner than any of them expected. Like most things that were anticipated with a sense of dread, the event crept up on them faster than desired. Tony had met May and Peter inside the courtroom. He was first to be there and he watched everyone else, presumably Skip’s family, pile in like it was the man’s funeral.

 _If only_ , Tony thought. Undoubtedly, he would’ve been the one to put him there.

Steven Westcott sat in the front, his eyes forward. He was told to stay that way, presumably so he couldn’t turn and face his victim. From what Tony could tell, the man was young. Peter had mentioned that Skip was a high school senior when it happened and as he was eighteen, he was tried as an adult. The man had light brown hair that was slicked back, and defeated shoulders that hunched forward.

When the shock of seeing the back of Skip’s head settled, the family sent astonished glances at Tony when they noticed him in the room. They whispered amongst themselves, curious to know why Tony Stark had made an appearance for a random hearing. He ignored them until he saw May and Peter walk in. He stood up instantly to make room for them to slide over the chairs.

“Hey,” May said.

Tony greeted her back and then looked down at his son. The kid couldn’t even look up. “Peter?” he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His eyes lowered to the kid’s hands, fiddling with a folded paper between them.

Tony couldn’t help but feel touched by the fact that Peter had listened to him, had taken his old man’s advice. If these were any other circumstances, Rhodey would never hear the end of his parenting job well-done.

This was different. This was a court hearing, about his son’s childhood molester. It was nothing to celebrate.

As the judged walked in, Tony and May could feel Peter between them start to shake. The boy’s anxiety channelled into them like a windstorm. May took his hand and Tony squeezed his shoulder.

The judge, an older woman with a kind face, began speaking, “Good afternoon. This is the time set for a rehearing for Steven Westcott, under number 167403. Is that you sir?”

“Yes, it is.” Steven’s voice was like a sharp knife that cut through Peter’s dazed mind. He finally looked up and saw the back of Skip’s head, trying his hardest to stop shaking like a leaf.

“If you please raise your right hand so I can put you under oath,” the judge continued. “Do you swear the information you provide today will be truthful and accurate?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her tone was professional but had an underlying crisp to it. She continued to lay out the case that put him there, all the accusations and convictions that was Peter’s suffering.

Tony was surprised his son was holding up so well, because he sure as hell wasn’t. Tony was angry and the only thing holding him back from striding across the room and grabbing the man by his throat was the shaking boy beneath his grip.

“So you’re aware that Peter had stated that you abused him for a duration of months. Is that accurate?”

Skip was silent for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. “I have stated in my therapy sessions that Peter and I are friends. We spent a lot of time together and I had dinner with his family. I care about him and-”

“You’re not answering the question. Did you abuse Peter, yes or no?”

“...no.”

The judge leaned forward, her hand holding her chin in thought. “The fact that you avoided the question with a long irrelevant answer tells me that you weren’t being honest. If you really believe that then I expected an answer point blank: no, I didn’t.” Skip didn’t respond. “That causes great concern for me, because Peter has nothing to gain by coming forward.”

“We were friends,” Skip interrupted. “I don’t understand what I’m being accused of here?”

“You are charged with sexual abuse of a minor.” Skip continued to argue his case with weak points that diverted from the accusation he was facing. When it went on for longer than two minutes the judge decided to put an end to this circle with an agree to disagree. Then she turned to Peter, who was now facing forward with his back straight, ready to tackle this. “Peter, you don’t have to speak but I will be happy to hear what you have to say.”

May and Tony turned to him. The boy hesitated for a only a few moments before he stood up determinedly and sat by the table behind his abuser. He held up his hand as he swore oath.

“Can you tell us your name so we could have it for the record?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Thank you. I am happy to hear whatever you would like to say.”

“Your-your honour, if I may, I have a letter?”

The judge nodded. “By all means.”

Peter unfolded the paper and leaned towards the mic. He started reading, “You saw me in a library. I was reading a book about astrophysics and you approached me pretending to have an interest in what I was saying. You called me Einstein. I still can’t even say the name in class without feeling like something is wrong with me.

“I was this kid who was happy to make a friend, because I didn’t have a lot of them.” Peter gulped, his throat starting to close up. “I sat you down with my aunt and uncle. We shared meals-” he halted, trying to regain control back into his voice. “I brought you into my life, and then you destroyed it. You betrayed my trust. What you did to me...it put me in a place where I felt like I was losing myself.” His hands began to shake. “I didn’t know how to live anymore-” The tears he had tried to so hard to keep at bay broke through his wall. If he spoke now he wasn’t sure they would even understand him through the sobs. He needed to say what had been buried so long...but he couldn’t stop goddamn crying.

Peter’s spare hand went to his face, trying to rub off the tears. He spent a minute or two like that, breathing hard to calm himself down. The rest of the room waited, sympathy reflecting within their teary eyes.

He felt unmoored; after reflecting for so long on what he would say to Skip, he hadn’t contemplated not being able to get the words out. At least when he had been scrawling down what he wanted to say on paper, there hadn't been a need to give voice to the story; he already knew it well. Now, everyone was listening attentively, giving him room to speak the truth.

Terror and anger prevented his speech from continuing. He could not find the right words to match what he was feeling. It was something he had only experienced one time before. It felt worse than any experience he had had going up against a villain as Spider-Man.

Queens’ vigilante, blocked by simple syllables that anyone else could say.

As he sat there, breathing through his gasps and repeatedly wiping at his tear-stained face, he didn’t notice that Tony had approached the table and sat beside him until the man gently pried the letter from his hands.

He held the letter in one hand, and rubbed Peter’s back in comfort with the other, leaning to speak into the mic in his stead. “I lost my childhood,” Tony’s voice rang throughout the room. “You took it from me and I will never get that back. The trauma followed me for years and it still continues to follow me into adulthood. I will be taking it to my grave.

“I read a book once that called child sexual abuse ‘soul murder’.” Tony paused briefly. “And that is what you did. You murdered my soul.”

He folded the letter and took a deep breath to compose himself. Peter was wiping away his tears with his sleeve. The courtroom was silent. “And can I just say,” Tony began tersely, yanking his sunglasses out of his eyes, “that you would be lucky to spend the rest of your life in prison-”

“Sir,” the judge reprimanded.

“-because if I ever got my hands on you-”

“ _Mr Stark!_ ” He finally stopped. “Do I need to get the guards?”

Tony saw two men in uniform from the corner of his eye starting to shift closer and took a deep breath. “No.” He straightened his blazer. “I’m good.”

The hearing wrapped up and the three of them were left standing in the hallway. They could see Skip’s family slowly dispersing, all the heads turning to him in sympathy. Some profusely apologised to Peter for everything he had gone through, some too ashamed to even approach the boy. Skip’s mother apologetically hugged Peter and didn’t notice they way he stiffened at her touch.

Finally, when it was just three of them, Peter excused himself to the bathroom, leaving his father and aunt waiting by a bench in the hallway.

After a moment of silence between him and May, Tony said, “I wanted to strangle him.”

“I know you did,” May said in understanding. “But that wouldn’t have helped Peter.”

“I know. That was the only thing holding me back.” They both knew they couldn’t risk anything Skip would use to get himself out. He could just imagine the press: _Tony Stark Attacks Prisoner In Court._

Tony sighed. “I wish I was there. When it happened.”

May looked at him in sympathy. She said reassuringly, “You were, Tony.” At his confused look May explained, “Peter had this Iron Man helmet.” She lightly laughed in nostalgia. “When you became a ‘superhero’ that was all he talked about.”

Tony couldn’t help but feel touched, even if he was already armed with that knowledge since before he knew about Peter.

May’s smile faltered. “After everything happened, Peter wore that Iron Man helmet every day, including that day at the expo.”

Tony recalled the conversation he had with May where she told the story of the Stark Expo. Ben had taken a young Peter to meet him. He vaguely remembered signing an autograph for the kid and later on saw him bravely stand up to the droid before Tony came up behind him and destroyed the thing before it hurt the kid. He couldn’t even remember what he had said to Peter, but apparently Peter never forgot about it.

May continued, not noticing Tony reflecting on his memories. “The mask made him feel brave, because according to him, Iron Man wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Tony could hear his father’s words in the back of his mind, _Stark men were made of iron_. It was like Howard had somehow ingrained the quote in their genes.

“He wore it every day until he felt okay enough to take it off. You helped him heal.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You may have not been _there_ ,” May said, “but you were there.” She looked at him sincerely. “Thank you for being a part of his life, Tony. I’m glad you’re here.”

Something in her words made Tony feel like he had officially become part of the family. Up until now, he always felt an awkward distance between him and May, as if she was waiting for him to screw up. Honestly, he was expecting it too.

But today, as she rubbed his arm, he saw the look of acceptance in her eyes. Tony didn’t realise how heavy the distance between them had been weighing on his chest until now.

xXx

A few weeks had passed and Peter was making his way to Tony’s personal lab. He held the strap of his bag on one shoulder as he walked out of the elevator.

Happy had just dropped him off. The two had been making conversation about the most mundane topics, such as baseball teams, the new Camila Cabello album (“Who?” Happy enquired), and the controversial flavour of licorice (both made a gagging sound).

In the past few months Happy had made a better effort in getting to know Peter, not just because he was stuck driving him most of the time. Peter was more than pleased to get to know a person important to his father. Happy could be rough around the edges, but he softened up when prodded just a little longer (and bribed with his favourite dessert - carrot cake).

Peter didn’t know that Tony hadn’t trusted anyone but Happy to watch over him when Tony wasn’t around to do it himself.

“Hey, Peter,” Pepper greeted him as he passed one of the many study rooms in the facility. The room was just about the size of his own bedroom in the building, except it had a mini library and the walls lacked any movie posters. Pepper sat comfortably on the desk’s chair, clad in jean shorts and a white t-shirt, hair up in a ponytail and surrounded by paperwork.

Peter walked in. “Hey, Ms Potts.”

“What did I say about calling me Ms Potts?”

“Right, sorry!”

She smiled at him. After many meetings with investors, business associates and an unwarranted amount of people questioning her ability to run Stark Industries, Pepper enjoyed the company of the bright and ever-polite kid. “Visiting your dad?”

Peter nodded. “What have you got there?”

“Oh,” she uncrossed her legs on the chair and stretched them out beneath the desk. “Just tedious work stuff. I’m finalising a contract with an independent research facility.”

“Can I see?” Peter asked, genuinely interested.

Pepper hesitated, a habit developed when working for big corporations. After a moment of deliberation, she decided to let Peter look it over. It was part of Tony’s philanthropy work and the kid was presumed to be taking over someday anyway, if he wanted. She knew Tony had updated his will at some point, so Pepper didn’t see the harm in giving the kid a look into the work he could be doing in the future.

“See this?” she said, pointing at the first page in the contract. She continued to explain the index of the contract, the necessary steps taken to make sure nobody would steal any of the money raised for the project and would be sued out of their own trouser pockets if they did. Tony had once written a cheque to a non-profit children’s foundation only to realise people were making their own profit in the backdoor from the donations. He outed them, started his own charities and made sure to do background checks before hiring anybody.

“I can’t believe people would do that. Steal from their own foundation.” Peter shook his head.

“Oh yeah,” Pepper said. “Tony goes out of his way to make sure his money doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Something about the way she said those words made Peter think about how Stark Industries used to be. When he was growing up and admiring the man, Peter had dug further into the background of Stark Industries. Throughout his childhood investigating, Peter had learned that Stark Industries, at one point, had been the leading weapons industry worldwide. However, someone from inside SI had been making illegal deals under the table, selling to people who intended to do harmful things with the weapons.

His young self remembered the change that had taken place - SI vowing to focus on creating technology for a brighter future and to get rid of the manufacturing of weapons entirely - after Tony had gone missing for months in Afghanistan.

Peter had pondered about asking Tony about what happened and what he saw that made him a changed man. But he knew better than to pry on sensitive topics that brought trauma better than anyone.

Almost twenty minutes passed before Tony knocked on the open door. FRIDAY had informed him that Peter was in the building but when his son didn’t make an appearance he decided to head upstairs and find him.

“Hey,” Tony greeted the two, looking at his fiancée and Peter sitting comfortably on the floor, papers scattered around them. He made his way into the room, settling himself onto the carpet beside them. “Whatcha doing?”

“Ms Potts-I mean, Pepper,” Peter corrected, she gave him a thumbs up, “was explaining to me about the work you do.”

“I was just giving him a few tips,” Pepper said, modestly.

Tony knew Pepper didn’t do ‘a few tips’ or anything half-assed. His ever-resourceful CEO and love of his life went above and beyond anything she set her mind to. That included giving Peter a complete tutoring session in how his company operated. “And what did we learn?”

“That people suck,” Peter grumbled.

Tony raised his brow and then turned to Pepper. “I think you broke him.”

Pepper sent him a playful glare. “It’ll take more than that to break this bright-eyed vigilante,” she said, making the kid blush. Bringing the pile of pages together and setting them on the desk, she got up and proclaimed, “I’ll go order us some food.”

“You’re the love of my life, Pep!” he called out, his stomach already rumbling. He then turned to Peter. “What’s up, kid?”

The kid shrugged. “Nothing much. Just that...I heard back from the hearing.”

Tony snapped into focus. He had been trying to get through the parole offices after they hadn’t received anything in days after the hearing. The snubby voices at the end of the line reassured him they will get back to them over the next four weeks. Needless to say, he hated that answer. But money could only get you so far. The rest was a waiting game. “And?” he anticipated.

“He won’t be eligible for parole for at least thirty years.”

Tony breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“Yeah.”

“You alright?” he asked Peter. The boy’s face was unreadable.

“Yeah, of course. It’s just… What happened has been haunting the back of my mind for so long and when I heard that he wasn’t going to get out for a long time...it’s like...it’s like I got some closure. Because I know that when the time for his next parole hearing comes out...I’ll be ready to speak then too. I’m not letting this happen to anyone else.”

Tony nodded, feeling pride for his brave son. He wanted to reassure him that even if Skip made it out, he would never come near Peter again. Tony would make sure of that.

“And, Mr Stark?” Peter looked at him with hope and admiration glinting in his brown eyes. “Thank you, for being there. What you did for me in that courtroom, I can’t ever repay you.”

“Peter, you don’t owe me anything. Ever.”

The boy smiled, shyness suddenly overcoming him. “And, Tony?” His father turned his head at him, slightly tilting in interest. “I know you think you’re not the best role model or whatever, but I think you’re doing a really good job at this whole dad thing.”

Tony blinked at him, not expecting that from Peter. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to reflect on what his son had said and how it made him feel like he was doing something right with his life, something that wasn’t tainted with his ego or his company’s shifty past. Although Tony had many regrets about his downfall into parties and women, he was glad to have met Mary. Glad to have conversation with her and the night went as well as his young libidinous self had hoped. The fact the matter was, if none of that happened, if he didn’t go to another New Year’s Eve festivity and meet the mother of this boy, something empty within him that longed for more would’ve never stopped aching.

The two got up, Tony wrapping his arm around the kid's shoulder as they left the room. He may have never known it, but Peter had been that missing piece in his life.

* * *

**END**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I got my information about the court hearing from here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0Ws5X1EPIQ&feature=youtu.be&t=3355
> 
> Not gonna lie, guys. That court scene was fucking hard. And I wrote a lot of heavy shit over the years. If there is anything that came across as insensitive or inaccurate in any way, please tell me.
> 
> I know a lot of you wanted me to write Tony going on a revenge spree, but I wanted to keep it within the realm of possibility. The past few years have aged Tony, and he’s at a point in his life where he has to keep a level-head, no matter how much his hands want to pummel this man. Also, I don’t think Peter wants to risk his dad going to jail over this douché.
> 
> Anyway, I have set up a few ideas for the next part of the series. Stay tuned!


End file.
